


Kissing Makes the Heat Bearable (Barely)

by ehhhchimatsu



Series: In Which Forbidden Dorks do Normal Merc Things [4]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Sweat, i love them, these two kill me ugh, theyre such nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:10:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4947949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ehhhchimatsu/pseuds/ehhhchimatsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's really hot in the desert, and Scout doesn't see how Sniper can bear it without sweating like a politician under oath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kissing Makes the Heat Bearable (Barely)

The sun directly overhead was relentless in its blazing - not a cloud was in the sky to hinder the burning rays.

It was easily over one hundred degrees Fahrenheit, but thanks to the desert it was a somewhat bearable dry heat.

The dry heat, however, did not prevent the desert's inhabitants from drastically sweating.

Especially the RED Scout, who was currently sitting on the dirt next to his BLU Sniper's van. 

"Snipes, I don't see how ya can take this shit! Jus' 'cause yer from the Outback or whatevah shouldn't mean yer immune to sweatin' like a pig in a slaughtah house."

Sniper rolled out from underneath his van on a mechanics dolly. It was wooden and had oil stains on it, but Scout was too busy ogling - none too silently - at the bare chest presented to him to notice.

"Ya got barely a drop'a sweat on ya, even! An' ya got a paunch - this ain't right, man. Ya should be sweatin' more'an me."

Sniper sat up, setting down a wrench in favor of a nearby rag, firstly getting some of the grime off his hands, then to wipe - with a fairly clean portion of it - what little sweat beads were accumulating on his forehead.

"This feels like nothin' to me, kid - this is Fall weather back home." A pause. "And excuse you, not all'a us can have a flat stomach. You sit on yer arse hunched over a roifle all day for a few years and come back to me without a pudge."

Scout immediately put up his hands in surrender. "Hey, hey, hey, pallie! Di'n't say I di'n't like it!" He reached one of his arms out, taking the small bit of chub between his index finger and thumb and pinching it slightly. "I'd go so far as ta say that I love it. S'cute, in a manly sorta way."

Scout's hand was shooed away from Sniper's beer belly. "Yer tryin' to protect the small bit of masculinity ya have left but I don't think it's workin', mate."

Scout crossed his arms, pouting. "'M hell'a manly, thank ya much. 'S'just that not all'a us can show it off by workin' on cars and gettin' all grimey an' gross."

Sniper leaned forwards, mere inches away from Scout's face, a smirk playing on his face. "Oh, c'mon now, mate, get the ants outta yer pants. Ya love it. Ya prob'ly wouldn't even protest me kissin' ya roight now, Oi bet."

At the sudden proximity, all the barriers Scout had up visibly dropped and his nervous-young-adult interior could be seen. He looked away sheepishly, replying, "You'd win that bet."

Before Scout could look back, Sniper's lips were on his, chapped and dry, and oh so perfect that Scout had to close his eyes just to savor the moment before he felt a rag rub harshly against his cheek. His eyes sprang open and he pulled away quickly just as Sniper burst out laughing, rag in hand, a large, oily smudge now coating the side of Scout's face. 

"H-Hey, man!" Scout cried out, brows furrowed as he tried to rub the large mark off with his hand, to no success. "That ain't cool!"

Sniper continued to bark with laughter until it finally died down, Sniper wiping tears from his eyes. "Ya fell roight for it, kid - pulled a fast one on ya loike y'were blind!"

Scout resumed an angrier pouting face, having given up on removing the oil, and stuck his tongue out at his lover. "At least I'm not that much of a dickbag, jeez! Ya can't just take a guy's heart an' then ruin his face! Ya ruin' the merch, ya buy it, fair and square."

Behind his aviators, Sniper rolled his eyes. "Don't have'ta buy ya, darl, yer already a willin' participant in this relationship."

Scout uncrossed his arms, his face returning to just a slight pout. "Whatevah, dillweed. Come ovah here and give me a hug before I get pissy."

Reluctantly, Sniper gave in, figuring he owed the kid. "Foine, foine, Oi'll obloige."

It was a tad awkward hugging while sitting in their positions, with Scout's sweat (that soaked through his tank top) getting onto Sniper's bare chest, but it was a sweet gesture nonetheless.

Until Sniper felt Scout rubbing his cheek on Sniper's own.

"Ya lil' shit!" Sniper cried out as Scout got out of the embrace and up on his feet in a hurry, scrambling away and laughing.

"S'what ya get! Catch me if ya can, old man!" Scout called behind him teasingly as he made his way around the camper. 

"Oi moight not be able ta outrun ya, but a bullet sure can, ya lil' ankleboiter."

Scout's head popped out from behind the back of the camper van, a devious grin decorating his face ear to ear, the oil marring his face giving him a comical look. "Ya wouldn't even dare, Snipes, don't lie."

Sniper sighed, but smiled all the same, getting up. "Yeah, kid, yer prob'ly roight." He paused, chuckling. "Yer prob'ly roight."


End file.
